Touch
by primal scream
Summary: [DISCONT'D] No longer being updated.


**Dracalle:** This is intended to be story. I really want to get to the juicy stuff, but damn the man who invented plotlines! (Harrumphs and sulks away in her little corner) Oh, and if you are a reader of Cat and Mouse, I'll have you know that I have three chapters done. But I'm a review whore so ...  
  
**Disclaimer:** Thank J.K. Rowling for the truly sinful character we have come to love as Draco Malfoy.  
  
**Summary: **When no one's looking, Draco teaches a certain virtuous mudblood what it's like to feel desired. When things go awry, Draco makes sure to give her a lesson she would never forget. All he really wants is her, and he's determined to make her see it.  
  
**Etc:** Takes place in the seventh year. Also contains sweet fluff and some good snogging ... for now. (Grin) I know - Oliver Wood wasn't even in Book Five, but we shall pretend he has re-appeared. A DM/HG/OW at first, but we all know it's going to be a D/Hr ... I think.  
  
  
  
_Are you sure you don't want to go public with this?  
  
She nodded, smiling, brushing his hair from his eyes. It can wait.  
  
He smiled and kissed her forehead, bringing the petite girl close to his chest.  
  
Then I can wait, too. With that, he pressed a tender kiss to her lips before vanishing in the dark of night._  
  
  
  


**Touch**  
[ what matters ]  
  
  


The fire crackled and danced, yellow and orange sparks darting everywhere like forgotten faeries in a frenzy. However, the mere beauty of a flame was not able to capture the attention of Hermione Granger, whose eyes were focused on the pale light of the moon and its sparkling friends that were embedded in the sky of black. As if it were a blanket of jewels and the moon, their pearl, she couldn't get enough of its vividness, its perfection, its enchantment. Then, a silver flicker from an unexplainable source caught her attention and she knew that it was midnight.  
  
She stood up and grabbed the Invisible Cloak she had borrowed from Harry earlier that day and left the common room, remembering to dim the flames before she fully left the Gryffindor tower. Hogwarts seemed so bare when everyone was asleep, tucked safely in their warm beds. Of course, that didn't exempt the occasional snicker of a familiar poltergeist named Peeves. But, other than that, Hogwarts was as dead as the night.  
  
Finally, she was outside. Hermione took slow, cautious steps towards the lake and stopped at the edge of the calm waters. She removed the cloak off of her body and folded it, placing it gently behind her and, as she straightened herself up, a pair of arms encircled around her waist, pulling her against something firm and warm. A smile found its way onto her lips and she covered her hands on the culprit's own, stroking the pale flesh.  
  
She addressed quietly.  
  
  
  
Then, he swayed his body, subtly and slowly, moving to a gentle melody that played in his head, moving her with him in a dance meant for the silence, a dance that didn't dare interrupt the aria of the night. He pressed his lips against her neck, then her hair before inhaling her feminine scent of peach and something else unidentifiable. She smelled sweet, as always, and he felt himself drowning in fruitful bliss that took the form of the muggle angel who stood wrapped in his arms.  
  
Quite honestly, he still didn't know what it was about her that changed him. Maybe it was because she was different. Maybe it was because she stood up to him. Or maybe it was because he really was attracted to her. Whatever the reason, it was kept secret. Outside their wonderful midnight trysts, they were just Malfoy and Granger, two opposing sides that were separated by an invisible thread, which no one dared to cross. Outside, they were Slytherin and Gryffindor, house parties that dared never to speak of the other. Outside, they were forbidden. But at night, it was something completely different. There were no barriers; just the sweet night.  
  
He felt her move awkwardly in his arms and behind her he flinched. To her, they were still Malfoy and Granger, despite his efforts of proving otherwise. To her, he was just paying back a favor, teaching her what it felt like to be him. To her, they were still enemies even in the cloak of darkness.  
  
She cleared her throat.  
  
No agenda for the night?  
  
All this time, she thought of their rendezvous as agendas.'  
  
Not unless you want one. He said, icily.  
  
You promised-  
  
  
  
He spun her around and pressed his lips against hers with rough force, hands at her arms and squeezing tightly. Fingernails digged into her flesh, and she let out a soft yelp that were muffled against his mouth. All of a sudden, he felt like violating her, hating her because she was filth. All of a sudden, he felt like a Malfoy.  
  
Draco released her.  
  
Lesson's over.  
  
  
  
Get, you filthy mudblood! He snarled, eyes twinkling something dangerous. Tonight was our last.  
  
She shook her head. This was bound to end, anyway. The whole prospect of meeting Draco in private was something that could never last. Besides, what would the school think of them if they found out? On top of that, she just wanted to lose something special. She didn't care if it was to him, she just wanted to get rid of it. Out with the old, in with the new. She wanted to have experience for _him._ Apparently, nothing of the sort could happen soon. She had certainly outdone herself - turning to an enemy. It was completely unheard of.  
  
Hermione picked up the cloak and blanketed herself with it, disappearing and blending in with her surroundings. With a fleeting glance at Draco, she fled back to the castle. Her other meeting could wait another night.  
  
The thought of Draco still flickered in her mind. She would no longer use him for her selfish benefits. He was just another Malfoy and another Malfoy she would treat him.  
  
She never saw the murmur of lips, a flick of a wand, and the glow that seemed to engulf her and him as well.  
  
  


- - - * * - - -  
  
  


Morning came, streaks of sunlight ripples skittering across the crimson-carpeted floor. Hermione finally awoke, already ten minutes past the start of breakfast in the Great Hall. Forcing herself up, she rubbed her eyes and readied herself for another day.  
  
As soon as she moved away from the tower she gasped. By some unexplainable phenomenon, she was being held against something familiar - warm and hard - and the distinct scent of crisp mint lingered in the air. But that wasn't the cause of her knees buckling, sending her to the floor. It was the intimate movement of something silky that glided sensually up her leg and over her thigh ...  
  
... And stopped.  
  
She looked at her surroundings frantically and was puzzled to find no one there. She could have sworn that Draco was there. He just had to be! Apparently, that idea was for naught. No one was there but her. She must have been imagining things, an aftermath of the night before. The prat of a Slytherin still haunted her even if they weren't touching. She stood up from her place on the floor and proceeded to the Great Hall.  
  
  


- - - * * - - -  
  
  


G'morning, Ron greeted with a grin, words slightly jumbled as he attempted to swallow a mouthful of food. Eyes twinkled mirthfully. Merlin must be proud of you.  
  
Harry snickered, his brown locks falling over his emerald orbs that, too, twinkled with life. The past two years had done him some good; he was tall and tan (thanks to hours of practice at Quidditch) and still the same sweet Potter boy she had come to adore still - modest and kind ... but she frowned slightly, even if a ghost of a smile flitted across her lips, as she noted the two friends shared something together through their grins.  
  
She took a seat, cautiously, in front of them, not letting her eyes stray anywhere else but the look of something shifty passing through their eyes.  
  
... Why should he be?  
  
Well, you've attempted something no other Gryffindor could possibly have the courage to do.  
  
Hermione shifted in her seat. And what, pray tell, would that be?  
  
If he had been holding in his laughter, he couldn't anymore. Harry burst out in a fit of deep chuckles and looked away.  
  
What's so funny? She demanded.  
  
Ron nodded slowly, as if he were ready to tell a story.  
  
Word of mouth is, a certain adorable bookworm of the Gryffindor trio has been sneaking out as of late. Up to past midnight at that!  
  
Her eyes widened in shock. How could they know about that? She had been so discreet!  
  
Snogging late, have you, dear Ron questioned her, grin on his lips, laughter seeping dangerously.  
  
I-I-of course not!  
  
Harry said; Ron nodded in agreement.  
  
Ron tutted. And with Oliver Wood, no less. Goodness, Hermione, you don't waste a second, do you?  
  
She sputtered. We haven't - no, how could you -? That's preposterous! Oliver Wood isn't even in-  
  
  
  
Who told you this! It was an indignant inquiry turned exclamation.  
  
Harry shrugged. We gave you benefit of doubt, honest. But your denial just kind of ... well, proved it.  
  
Yeah. If you must know, Lavender and Parvati have been spreading it around the whole school. Gossip princesses and all that. I don't know exactly how they got that information, though.  
  
Hermione glared something fierce before pushing herself away from the table and left the hall.  
  
Ron looked inquisitively at the retreating girl.  
  
Was it something I said?  
  
Unfortunately, yes.  
  
Oh, shut up, Harry.  
  
  


- - - * * - - -  
  
  


Once calm orbs of gray were now stormy and feral.  
  
It was true then. After her late night visits with him, she wouldn't go back to the tower but snuck off with Oliver Wood. That was why she needed tutoring. He hadn't felt more filthy in his entire life.  
  
And no one - no one - dared mess with a Malfoy.  
  
With that, he excused himself from his table with a snarl and sought after the opposing female.  
  
  


- - - * * - - -  
  
  


Hermione made a face as she pushed a strand of hair away from her face, the young man in front of her chuckling at the sight.  
  
So they found out, he repeated, thoughtfully, and they've come to conclusions.  
  
More or less. Oh, but you have to admit those kisses looked unbearably intimate from a far-off angle.  
  
Oliver grinned, ruffling his hair with a stroke of a hand.  
  
Oh, but it wasn't, my dearest Hermione. He teased. How long should we keep this up? It's up to you, of course. I only agreed to do you a favour. Even if I am only being used. He added, good-naturedly.  
  
Hermione smiled sheepishly and linked her hands behind her back.  
  
And I am grateful for it.  
  
No problem. He looked at the sky. Well, it's getting close to noon so I ought to leave. A kiss' before I leave?  
  
Her smile broadened and she pressed her lips quickly against his cheek.  
  
Mild and sweet, he nodded as he began to stroll off. You wouldn't make a bad girlfriend, Hermione.  
  
Is this a sort of confession of love? Because, you know, I should be well-aware of it. Hermione teased.  
  
Perhaps. And yet again I say that I'm only doing you a favour. But I'm willing to test that theory further.  
  
Then, in a flash, he disappeared, leaving Hermione stunned in sheer bliss, a rosy colour appearing in her cheeks. It was her first lesson in flirting, something she didn't learn from that ill-mannered Slyth-  
  
There it was again! The semblance of a touch, ghostly sweet and wonderful at her right thigh, slowly inching its way up. It was the touch of someone who had experience, someone so like ...  
  
Draco ...?  
  
The pleasurable feeling stopped.  
  
Draco? Are you there? She looked around frantically, searching for someone tall, blonde, handsome ...  
  
There was rustling around the tree behind her and she turned around, glancing at the shadow that soon formed the body of Draco Malfoy, who looked positively savage. Bright gray stones that sparkled venomously and were directed at her. The hate, the disgust, everything that made up the seventh-year Slytherin.  
  
Were you ... Hermione paused to catch her breath. Did you ... what did you do to me?  
  
He leaned his shoulder on the tree, languidly.  
  
What it was I did to you is not the question. I don't even know what you're talking about, he said, flippantly, but continued, the question is: what were you doing with Wood?  
  
Hermione puffed. Does it really matter? I don't see how my life really involves you.  
  
And after all he did for her ... he growled.  
  
You're right, he spat, I don't see how it does. It doesn't really matter, like you said. Mudbloods aren't my department to deal with, is it?  
  
Back to mudblood, are we?  
  
Does it really matter?  
  
Then, he turned and walked away, without bothering to sneak a second glimpse of the broken-down Gryffindor. What she didn't see was he was breaking too.  
  


_{ end chapter i, dracalle }  
  
  
_

Well, we all know who's making Hermione feel that way. And with good reason too! But I couldn't stop problems there with just that - I had to add a few sentiments and that love triangle, so to speak. More will be explained later. I don't think it's confusing at all ... pretty straightforward, mind you. Oh, and the fun spats will be up next. I love love/hate relationships don't you? I figured such.


End file.
